Oil

I want to wake up to that smell of oil, warm and thick, softening me. As I inhale, it coats my insides in an understanding embrace. But smell never stays with you, only its memory.  I remember the voice that went past my eardrums. I felt its low hum in my belly and its earthy breath on my face. It asked me to reach out and when I listened, I felt a pulse. How close it is to me now, even when I am left exposed, after the scent has faded. Left to find my own reminders of that comfort, hopeful both for it to leave and linger a while longer.